Level Horizon (Haikyuu!! WingedAU)

Year Five.25 3/3; Sanguine

If a man knows not to which port he sails, no wind is favorable. ~Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Hajime Iwaizumi follows the rookery leader into his study, his entire spine rigid.

He has no idea what is coming. He doesn't know if he should expect a thank you and a pat on the back or a beheading. He doesn't know if he will be rewarded for his efforts or imprisoned, doesn't know if he'll see the sun rise tomorrow. He doesn't know if he's made the right choices and he doesn't know if the Grand King will recognize his reasons.

What he does know... is that the man he's always followed, whose back is to him now as he comes to stand in the center of the room, the man he's given his sanity, his very heart and soul to serve—he knows.

They'd finished playing that one match, the rookery team having won by just a hair with the owl setter who he remembers being disturbingly good at knots. It had been a very unpredictable match for them and it had taken every ounce of concentration they'd had to stay on their toes.

Kageyama's team had been a complete wildcard; the only four people he knew anything about Volley wise were the avian heir, the shrimp, the short crow, and the bearded ace. The ibis and crow he'd tailed back to their beach home had both played, the blond in particular quite formidable at the net. The streaked owl who'd been laid up the last time he'd seen him was as powerful as Azumane and as motivated as Hinata.

And they'd set up in a baffling lineup. Nishinoya had rotated in when the small spiker and the ibis hit the back row, always playing defense. He never hit, would occasionally set a ball for Azumane or Kageyama, but damn, he'd gotten good at receives.

And of course, they'd had to deal with that beast of a serve from the crow setter, but the singularly most dangerous aspect about their team had been the quick from Hinata and Kageyama. It was lightning fast and impossible to keep up with. They'd scored probably eight points off that alone, the owl setter grousing about how the rookery blockers would have to be faster if they wanted to stop him. The avian heir and the shrimp were so in sync that it was hard to keep tabs on them. And with Kageyama as setter, every time any of the others went to hit, it was always a perfect toss.

Really, the only reason they'd won was because Kageyama's team had literally not played aerial volley in five years. It seemed like all of Hajime's team's points had been made off the other side's mistakes that were textbook of having not played together, and being out of practice. There were several instances where it was apparent that this group didn't normally play together and had never played aerial together in any case.

And then there was their condition. Every one of them was damn near spent by the time the last point fell. They might have played 'ground Volley' as the grey cat had called it—every day, but it was a different type of energy being spent in aerial and they were clearly unused to it. The first to fail had been Hinata, his wings starting to go unresponsive on him before they hit the last ten points of the game even with the short crow subbing for him on back line. When they'd sent the short cat in and pulled Nishinoya into Hinata's place for the rest of the match despite how he was slowing down as well, Hajime's team had nearly faltered completely in surprise.

Only a sharp word from the owl setter on their side had brought their focus back into call, but it was uncanny how quick that small cat was, and how well he covered all the hits from the ground just like Noya had done in the air. It had been even more unsettling that the cat had constantly been behind and below them, and they'd placed complete faith in his abilities to not only cover them in game, but also to not attack them from behind. It was far easier to forget that their setter and the streaked ace on the other side were owls as they'd played, but the small feline lacking wings was impossible to see as anything else.